


Stride for Stride

by clgfanfic



Category: Counterstrike (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 06:46:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete and Stone continue their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stride for Stride

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine One in Ten #2 under the pen name Chris Alexander.

Ex-Scotland Yard detective Peter Sinclair poured himself a generous shot of brandy, walked over to his desk and sat down in his padded leather chair.  Glancing at the clock, he realized that Gabrielle and J.J. were due any time now.  He allowed himself a relaxed smile, grateful that they hadn't been on board the plane earlier when he and his co-worker Hector Stone had made the transition from friends to lovers. He shook his head, still not sure if the whole thing wasn't some delusion brought on by the migraine he'd been suffering from.

The door to the alcove where the bed and small bath were housed opened and Stone stepped out into the main section of the private jet to join him.  The grin on the ex-Navy SEAL's face and the predatory excitement in his hazel eyes told Sinclair his imagination could not have created anything approaching the reality.

"Did I leave enough hot water?" Peter asked as Stone ran splayed fingers over his damp short dark hair.

"Yep," the man replied, walking over to drop down into another of the comfortable chairs.  Draping a grey-sweat covered leg over one arm, he wagged his eyebrows and said, "Next time we oughta try taking a shower together."

"That would be a bit of a tight squeeze," Peter countered.

"Exactly my point," Stone grinned.

"Hey, Pete, Stone," J.J. greeted, walking in to join the pair.

Sinclair turned to greet the young African-American pilot.  "Hi, J.J."

"I'll get the plane checked out," he said.  "Should be ready to go in an hour."

"Fine," Peter said.  "We're still one passenger short."

"Where's Stone?" Gabrielle asked, sweeping into the room with a teasing smile.

"Right here," he replied from the couch.  "Where were you?"

"I wanted to see Hawk's sister-in-law before we left."

"How is she?" Peter asked, hoping that the young Native woman was on the road to recovery.

"Her shoulder is still sore, but she should be all right.  And it seems that the Canadian and U.S. governments are anxious to begin hearing the Indians' grievances concerning Alchemco."

"Glad to hear it," Peter said.

J.J. excused himself and headed for the cockpit.  Less than an hour later they were in the air, heading back to Paris.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

They arrived after midnight, but a car was waiting for them.  The driver dropped each of them off at their Paris apartments, then headed back to the office in case he was needed.

Peter slept until nearly noon, then forced himself out of bed for a workout, run, and shower.  That done, he walked to the small cafe, ate and spent an hour scanning _The London Times_ , _L'Monde_ , and _The New York Times_.  Finishing his coffee, he walked back to his apartment and called the office.

"Peter?" Alexander Addington's assistant asked.

"Yes, I thought I'd better check in."

"How was the flight?" Ms Helene Previn asked.

"Smooth as always," Peter said with a salacious smile.

"Mr. Addington isn't here," she told him.  "He'll be back from Berlin the day after tomorrow.  Can you stop by in the morning?"

"No problem," Peter said.

"Enjoy a day off."

"Oh," Sinclair almost purred.  "I intend to."

Hanging up, Sinclair paused a moment, then picked up the receiver and dialed Stone.

"Yo," was the reply.

"We have a day off," Peter explained.  "Have any plans?"

"Just the usual, gym, park.  Wanna join me?" he asked, adding quickly, "If you think you can keep up."

"I'll keep up," Sinclair promised.  "But I'll pass on the gym.  See you at the park?"

"Sure," Stone replied, and Peter could hear the grin.  "Eleven?"

"Fine."

"Bring your runnin' shoes."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

He stopped by the office first, then drove to the park and left his car next to Stone's obvious motorcycle.  He spotted the ex-SEAL in the shade of a large elm.  Walking over, he grinned down at the man as he stretched.  "So, what's the plan?" he asked.

Stone glanced up, one eye squinted shut against the sunlight.  "I was thinkin' twelve miles oughta do it."

"Twelve?" Sinclair echoed hollowly.

"What's the matter, Pete?" Stone dared.  "Too much for you?"

"No—"

Stone grinned.  "Three.  That sound better?"

"Much," the handsome blond admitted.  Sitting down next to Stone in the grass, Peter stretched.  "Whenever you're ready, Stone."

"I'm always ready, Pete," the dark-haired man said without looking up.

"Promises, promises."

With a wolfish grin, Stone climbed to his feet and stuck his hand out.  Sinclair grabbed it and let Stone pull him to his feet.

They started off at an easy jog, the pace picking up and slacking off depending on how many women happened to be jogging close by.  As they neared the end of their three miles, Stone glanced over at Sinclair and said, "Hang with me, you'll be in shape in no time."

"Yeah, is that a fact?" the blond retorted.  "I'm matching you stride for stride!"

"That's because I'm not even tryin'," Stone countered, then sprinted just far enough to induce Peter into picking up the pace.

"That's what Ben Johnson's been saying for years," Peter called as he passed the ex-SEAL.

"Ben who?" Stone replied, trying not to laugh as he picked up the pace again to keep up.

"Come on!" Sinclair called.  "What's keeping you?"

Stone chuckled and shook his head, refusing to be baited.

Peter came to a stop.  "You're full of it, Stone," he said, shaking his head.

Stone grinned back, but didn't reply.

Heading for his car, Sinclair asked, "Fancy some lunch?"

Stone grinned.  "What, with you?"

Peter's eyes rounded.

"Thanks, but no thanks," Stone continued walking to his motorcycle and swung one leg over the leather seat.  "Snails and frog legs just don't make it with me."

"Does wonders for the palette," Peter countered, opening the truck and pulling out a white hand towel and draping it around his neck.

"Yeah?  Well, I'm a ham and eggs guy," Stone said, pulling on the black leather jacket he'd left hanging on the back of his bike.

"Ah, your sophistication kills me," Sinclair said, reaching in and pulling out a stack of telephone message slips and envelopes.  "Here, picked these up for you from the office."  He tossed them to Stone, who caught them single-handed.

"Thanks," he said, glancing down at the first phone message.  "Oh boy."

"Problem?" Peter asked, looking up.

A faraway look settled into Stone's eyes.  "Ever hear of Frank Percy?  Jake Levy?"

Sinclair fell serious.  "No, I don't think so.  Americans?"

"CIA.  I worked with 'em.  Frank was a friend of mine."  He looked down at the message again.  "Looks like they're in trouble,"  he finished, handing the message over.

Peter read Helene's neat script aloud, "Bad day at Black Rock."

"Distress signal from Frank."

Sinclair handed back the slip of paper.  "So why don't you find out what he wants?"

"He's in Toronto."

"So?  There's a flight out of the airport in a couple of hours.  You'll make it if you hurry."

Stone's hazel eyes widened slightly.  "What about the boss?"

"I'll explain," Sinclair promised.  "I'm meeting with him tomorrow morning when he gets back from Berlin."  He caught Stone's gaze and smiled.  "If you need us, we'll be there."

Stone smiled and glanced away.  It was still hard to remember that he was part of a team again.  And not just a team, he was in a relationship again.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Sitting in the Toronto interrogation room, Stone watched the police detective leave before he completed his call to Alexander Addington's Paris office.  With luck he'd catch Peter there with the industrialist.

"Addington International," Helene said.

"Helene, it's Stone.  Is the boss there?"

"Yes, he's talking with Mr. Sinclair."

"That's what I was hoping," he said.  "Can you put me through?  It's kinda an emergency."

"Of course," she replied.

The phone clicked.  "Mr. Stone?"

"Mr. A," Stone replied.  "Uh, Pete tell you about my trip?"

"He did," the older man replied.

"Well, looks like I need that help after all."

"What's goin' on?" Addington asked, pressing the button to put Stone on the speaker phone.

"Well, to start I've been arrested," Stone said calmly.  "For murder."

"Murder?" Peter said, leaning forward.  "Stone, what's going on?"

Stone gave them a brief recap.  He'd arrived in Toronto and went to his meeting with Frank Percy.  But Frank was dead.  Shot to death.  The police had found Stone standing over the body, with a gun that hadn't been fired.  They had nothing on the ex-SEAL, but lots of questions.  He needed bail and he needed help to find out who had killed his friend.

"We'll be there," Sinclair reassured.

"The sooner the better, Pete," Stone encouraged.  "The company in my cell's already proposed."

"Well, don't send out any invitations just yet," the blond replied.

Stone hung up and Addington picked up the phone.  "Ms. Previn, call J.J. and have him get the plane ready to go!  Mr. Sinclair and Ms Germont will be going to Toronto."

"Yes, sir."

Peter moved to the second phone and called Gabrielle.  "Hi, it's me," he said. "Pack a bag and get over to the office.  Stone's in trouble.  We're going to Toronto."

"And get our Toronto office lawyer on the line!" Addington finished.

"Yes, sir."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Standing in the large flat field, Stone watched the police bag Jake Levy's body and carry him away.  He'd never thought the CIA agent would actually kill himself, but what he'd said earlier was true.  The gun that killed Jake had been loaded years earlier when he stepped over the line.  It was just too bad that Jake's weakness had cost Frank his life.

He looked over at Peter, who was still splattered with Jake's blood.  "Sure you're okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, I just need a shower," the blond replied.  "You?"

"I will be."

Sinclair nodded, gesturing that they should go.  The detective in charge watched them go, but said nothing.  In the car, Stone sighed heavily.  "Frank was a good man."

"Maybe he didn't know what Jake was doing."

"He knew," Stone said.  "He was trying to stop the deal, but he knew.  He should've turned Jake in."

Peter shook his head as he started the car.  "Maybe he didn't want to do that to a friend."

"Jake wasn't anybody's friend.  Never was."

"But they were partners."

"Yeah," Stone admitted.  "They were partners."  He glanced over at Peter.  "I guess it just makes it a little harder to trust, you know?"

"I know, but you can trust us," he replied, looking away from the road long enough to meet the man's troubled gaze.

"I know."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Stone jogged through the quiet Paris park.  He liked running at dawn when there was no one up yet.  Fog rose off the grass and the birds chirped.

He heard Peter before the blond caught up to him, falling in beside Stone.  "A little early for you, isn't it?"

"A little," Sinclair said.  "Thought I'd invite you to breakfast."

"You could've called."

"You didn't answer."

Stone's eyebrows peaked and fell.  "Good point."

"So, interested?"

"Why not?"

"This wasn't what I expected," Stone said as Peter unlocked the door to his Paris apartment.

"We could go to—"

"No, no, that's okay," Stone interrupted.  "I'll take home cookin' whenever I can get it."

Peter grinned as he tossed his keys into the small bowl sitting on the wooden shelf just inside the door.  "Make yourself comfortable.  The bath's at the end of the hall if you want to clean up."

"Sounds like a plan," Stone said.  "You got any sweats I can borrow?  Something without the little alligator on 'em?"

Sinclair gave the man an indulgent sigh and said, "I'll see what I can find."

"Thanks," Stone said, the corners of his lips twitching.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Stone dressed in the royal blue sweat pants and white t-shirt Peter had dropped off while he was in the shower.  The pants were slightly too short for him, but comfortably soft and worn.  Shoving his dirty clothes into his small gym bag, he walked out to join Peter.

Tossing the gym-bag onto the couch, he ambled into the kitchen.  Sinclair stood at the stove, putting the finishing touches on two omelets.  "Looks good."

"You sound surprised," Peter said.

Stone eyebrows climbed slightly.  "I am."

"I'll have you know I'm a fine cook."

"We'll see," Stone said, grabbing his plate and carrying it out to Sinclair's backyard patio.  Sitting down at the small glass table, he admired the manicured landscape beyond the short brick wall.  A fountain bubbled to add the perfect touch to the quiet French morning.

"Aren't you even going to try it?" Peter asked, sitting down across the table.

"Huh?"

"The omelet."

"Oh, yeah.  Of course," Stone said, picking up knife and fork and digging in.  "This is great," he assured after the first bite.

Peter grinned around his own bite and shook his head.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

After they finished Peter carried the dishes back into the kitchen and brought out two cups of coffee, setting one in front of Stone.  "So, what are we going to do with a day off?"

Stone took a sip as he glanced up, meeting Sinclair's inviting gaze.  He sputtered.

The blond laughed.  "What?"

"You're about as subtle as a naked lady in church."

"That's some church," he replied huskily.

"What do you want, Pete?"

"Isn't that obvious?"

He wanted to say yes, but there was still a part of his soul stinging from Jake's betrayal.  Besides, making a working relationship into a personal one wasn't a smart idea.  He'd learned that lesson when Vicky died.  He head dipped and he studied his lap.  Too bad his anatomy didn't agree.

"Stone?"

"I don't know, Pete…"

"Second thoughts?"

"Too many thoughts."

"Still think we're not going to be there for you?"

Stone shook his head.  "Not that simple."  He looked up, meeting the concerned and hopeful gaze.  "Relationships have always come hard for me," he admitted.

"So we'll go slow," Peter replied.

Stone grinned and shook his head.  "You've got an answer for everything."

"I try," Sinclair admitted.  "Come on... let's go see what comes up."

With a sigh and a grin, Stone stood and followed Peter back inside.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Peter led the way to his comfortably furnished bedroom.  Stepping inside, he waited for Stone to enter, then closed the door behind him.  With that done, he stepped up to the stereo setup and pressed play.  The soft strains of an Italian opera filled the room.  Reaching up, he pulled his t-shirt over his head and tossed it onto a empty chair.  His shoes and socks followed while Stone watched, the hunger in his eyes telling Sinclair that while he might have reservations, he wasn't going to say no.

He watched Stone tug the sweats down over his thighs, his ass wrapped in tight BVDs.

Stripped down to their underwear, the two men lay down on the bed, the cotton flannel comforter soft against their bare skin.  For several minutes they rested, basking in the scent and feel of the other body so close.

Peter made the first move, reaching out to run his hand down Stone's back, then explored over the man's ribs to rub across the firm pecs, finding a hard nipple hiding in the soft hair that covered the man's chest.  He flicked a finger gently across the pointed nipple and Stone moaned softly.

The ex-SEAL shifted, rolling over onto his back.  At first he wasn't sure what he should do.  He'd been alone so long, desperate for partnership, but apprehensive.  Then he'd let his heart get ahead of his head with Vicky, and she'd died.  Now there was Sinclair…

His skin bristling under the softness of Peter's touch, he eased his hand up to cover the hand caressing his chest.  A long sigh escaped Peter's lips, his fingers remaining inquisitive and insistent.

Stone reached out, touching Sinclair's smooth chest, then rolled slightly toward the wall and tugged Peter over on top of him.  The instant their bodies touched Stone felt Sinclair's erection.

The blond groaned.  "I get the top, huh?" he chuckled.

Rather than reply, Stone wrapped his arms around Sinclair and pulled him tight against his chest.

Peter retaliated with a kiss, nipping at the inviting lips as Stone slid his hands down Sinclair's back, making his skin tingle.  Reaching the waistband of his lover's briefs, Stone forced his hands under the band and proceeded down onto his ass.

Stone groaned, enjoying the soft, cool skin under his fingers.  He kneaded, enjoying the way the muscles quivered ever so slightly.  The solid feel of the man's ass prompted Stone to press his hips up, grinding his growing erection against Sinclair's hip.  One of Stone's fingers found the crack between the hairless cheeks and slipped down into it until he found the pucker he wanted.

Peter sighed, kissing Stone harder.  Then he broke the lip-lock and grinned.  "Keep that up and this'll be over a lot sooner than I was planning."

Stone leveled him with an evil grin of his own.  "That so?"

"Okay, okay," Peter surrendered as the finger teased.  "But only if I can do the same.  Only if you let me make love to you."

"You first," Stone said, raising up and forcing Peter back onto the bed and pulling his briefs off.  He moved, taking off his own underwear and stretching out along the lean, tanned body.  Glancing at the nightstand, he noticed the tube of KY for the first time.  "That for me?"

"Or me," Peter replied.

"You sure?"

"Oh, yeah," Sinclair said, a smile spreading across his face.  "I'm absolutely sure."

"You ever had someone—"

"It was a game Clair and I used to play," Peter interrupted.  "She liked to… penetrate me with a—"

"I get the picture," Stone said and chuckled.  "Sounds like you had an interesting marriage."

"Let's just say we didn't break up over the sex."

Stone reached out and grabbed the KY.

"Let me," Peter said, taking the tube and squeezing out a dollop.  He rubbed the gel onto Stone's throbbing erection.

The ex-SEAL squeezed out a small amount into his hand.  "Put your knees up," he instructed.

Peter placed his feet on the bed and rolled his hips upwards, giving Stone enough room to reach down and gently rim the KY around and into his waiting asshole.  That done, Stone maneuvered around to face Peter.

Sinclair lifted his legs off the bed, resting the crooks of his knees on Stone's shoulders.  The ex-SEAL's cock poked teasingly against his balls and the crack of his ass before finding the hole.

Stone pressed, rocking his hips forward and pressed harder.  He felt his cock slide past the tight muscle, embedding the crown in the dark warmth.  He let the breath he was holding escape when Peter sighed, then groaned in pleasure and squeezed.

"Ahhhh," Stone said, gritting his teeth.  He pushed, enjoying the feel of the tight muscles as they relaxed, allowing him to slide in further and further until he was buried.  He pulled his hips back and pressed in, setting a slow but deep tempo to their lovemaking.

It felt like an explosion every time Stone sank into him and Peter reached down, using the remainder of the KY to coat his own cock and pump it.

Stone picked up the pace.

"God," Peter breathed.  "God, yes."

Stone's balls slapped harder against Sinclair's cheeks, then he shoved in as far as he could before shooting into Peter's ass.  At the same time, Sinclair's own cock erupted cum against Stone's belly button.

Stone pulled out slowly, then fell back against the bed next to Sinclair.  "Never tried it like that," the ex-SEAL said.

"Good?"

"Very."

"Glad to hear it."  Peter lifted himself up on an elbow.  "Care to join me in the shower?"

"Sure."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

After their shower the two men returned to the patio for more coffee and conversation.  They walked to the cafe for lunch, then back to the apartment for some chess, another run, and an animated discussion over the security arrangement for an upcoming conference Addington was hosting.

As the discussion finally wound down, Peter asked, "Hungry?"

Stone shook his head.

Peter's eyes narrowed slightly.  "Guess I haven't worked up your appetite."

"Not for food anyway," Stone countered.

"Good," Peter said.  "I was hoping you'd say that."  He stood, commanding, "Stay here.  I'll be right back."

Stone waited, feeling his cock already beginning to stir.

"Close your eyes," Peter said from behind him.

Stone did as he was told and felt a soft strip of material cover his eyes.  "What's this?"

"Just taking your advice," Peter explained.  "I came up with something better to do with my ties."

"I see," Stone said.  He'd been hoping that Sinclair might take the suggestion he'd made the first time they'd made love.

"I hope not.  I don't want you seeing what's coming."

"Oh, I know what's gonna be coming."

"Come on," Peter said, taking Stone's arm and leading him back into the bedroom.  "Stand still," he said, the words Stone had spoken that first time ringing in his memory: _I like it a little rough_.  Peter had realized that that meant he didn't want to be hurt, just wanted to imagine that he might be.

With swift efficiency, Sinclair stripped Stone out of his clothes, then abandoned his own.  "Sit," he told the ex-SEAL.

Stone's hand probed the air until he found the edge of the bed, then sat.

Taking a deep breath and swallowing hard, Peter stepped up and straddled Stone's thighs.  His already hard cock poked Stone's chest as he reached out, grabbing the back of the man's head and wishing that the nearly black hair was long enough to tangle his fingers in.  He leaned forward, grinding his lips against Stone's.

The ex-SEAL returned the kiss, his hands coming up to Peter's hips, his fingers digging in almost painfully.

Sinclair pushed the man back, then stepped back and pulled Stone's knees open.  Stepping between them, he kneeled and initiated an evening of surprises…

The End


End file.
